


Of All The Little Things

by Casually_Of_A_Fandom_War



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power
Genre: Child Abandonment, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, F/F, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, let them be happy, not as dark as the tags sugest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 06:31:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16718139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casually_Of_A_Fandom_War/pseuds/Casually_Of_A_Fandom_War
Summary: After reflecting back on all her memories, after reflecting on her actions and beliefs, she could finally say a few things for certain.One. She had dug her grave too deep to escape from. Two. No matter what, she wouldn't take the rope Adora threw down for her. She didn't want to waste the time and effort it took to dig this grave. Three. Something she knew but was trying to hide, was something simple.She really, really missed Adora.





	Of All The Little Things

**Author's Note:**

> Ha, have another angst thing!  
> Fluff is coming soon, I just need inspiration.  
> Also, feel free to leave a comment!

The horde.

A place devoid of weakness and kindness, with competitive spirits battling for a higher rank than what they had. The building looked to be toppling over, barely held up by small strings of metal that looked ready to snap at any given moment.

The walls in the horde were a mix of green, grey, and a hint of blue. The halls were reflected by the lights that illuminated them. The floor's matches the walls, but were rough to walk over, with bumps and flaws in the metal from years of use.

The noise was constant, a broken hum of a swarm of bees, louder in some areas, but always present. Grinding noises of metal scraping against metal were common, but usually meant something was broken. Most people tended to ignore the noises and machinery, knowing it wouldn't ever be fixed. Well, not really. People would try, moving the metal slightly, but things always broke again, proving to be too much of a hassle. So, the greeting noises continued, hurting ears and annoying those in command.

The smells were as band and horrible as the rest of the place. Smelling of oil and rust, with body odors and the faint smell of whatever their food is supposed to be mixing into something absolutely horrid. Sadly, you get used to all the things mentioned above. The sights, the smells, and the sounds. The one thing people never really got used to was the brutality.

Sure, when your a kid you don't think of it as abuse. Your just being punished for doing something wrong, not being forced to become a soldier. Your being taught how to deal with your weaknesses! Not purging what makes you you.

 

* * *

 

 

It was always about competition, always about fighting or wanting to win. Competition drove people apart, made enemies from companions. Made killers from children, and warriors from orphans.

Adora was always blind to these things, though. She didn't see towers ready to collapse, she saw impressive building that served a function. She never minded the empty halls, or the horrid smells. She never cared for the loud sounds, thinking of them as one big lullaby. Competition was evident, but she stuck around those she knew.

Adora never saw the horrible mess the horde was, blinded by her desire to be the perfect little soldier.

Catra, however, had always known. She grew up in the streets of the horde, grew up having bottles thrown at her, shot at by soldiers for fun. She slept in rooms full of loud machinery, or when the smog wasn't as dense, outside on top of rooftops or the tops of stalls. She remembered pulling rags from the dumpster to wear as clothes, and going weeks without showers or food just to survive.

She remembers how things looked better as a soldier. I mean, free food once a day, water that was somewhat clean, access to showers every once and awhile, and a clean bed with an actual roof over her head. Sounded like heaven.

She didn't expect Shadow Weaver, however.

 

* * *

 

 

Catra remembers the first time she met Shadow Weaver. It was after she was caught sleeping in one of the empty rooms of the horde base. She had curled herself into a ball atop a warm surface to sleep for a few hours, being woken by some sort of liquid being splashed on herself. The guards that awoke her tied her hands behind her back and delivered her, a shaking child no older than eleven, right to the second in command.

Her instant thought of Shadow Weaver was how strong she looked. She radiated power, her red eyes glaring down at her. She was afraid, so she did what one would normally do. She showed weakness.

Worst mistake of her life.

What came after could only be described as brutal training, a whole day to see if she died or lived. If she lived, which she did, she was to be taken to her room to sleep, but after showering. She arrived at the barracks late after people were asleep, shown her bed and slept. She went that night without food.

The next morning she was poked awake by a blond haired girl with blue eyes, staring up at her with wonder. She learned her name was Adora. It's times like now, after everything that had happened, that she wishes she hadn't met the girl. The reason? Torture.

Everything Adora failed at was her fault. Catra got blamed for every inconvenience to Shadow Weaver, treated as a pest. Every time Catra did good in a simulation or got first place in something she was beaten down. After all. She was just a waste of space.

Everything was fine, however. all the shadows of the day melted away once she crawled into her friends arms. She would purr and smile, showing small amounts of weakness for the only person that mattered. Adora.

Adora to her was everything. Everything worth fighting for, worth living for, with trying her best for. After all, they did everything together. Her and Catra would make fun of people who they disliked. Would swing and jump on the hazardous pipes and wires hanging around the base.

After all, _you look after me, and I'll look after you._

* * *

 

In all honesty she knew one day Adora would want to leave. But she always thought it would be after Adora found the scars and bruises Shadow Weaver had caused, not for people she had known for less than a day. She thought her and Adora would run away and always protect each other, always have each other a backs.

Instead, she got an enemy. Her best friend turned enemy.

Catra got lost in the rage and regret, the hate and fury of being left and forgotten. Of being pushed aside from everyone in her life, her mom, her dad, and the person that mattered most. She got lost in a red blur, not really knowing what she was doing. She fought, she screamed, and she howled. Everything that was holding Catra back broke, and anything that held her back was destroyed.

Shadow Weaver wasn't needed. Lowly civilians from towns who's names she couldn't be bothered to learn, didn't matter. Her sleepless nights alone didn't matter. At least, not at first. At first she took ahold of any advantage she could get her hands on. At first, she didn't care.

After the battle of bright moon she became the second in command of an army she had despised the whole time she had been in it. An army she had wanted to destroy from the inside out, just a year ago. Now she was a leader. Now she was alone.

 

* * *

 

 

After reflecting back on all her memories, after reflecting on her actions and beliefs, she could finally say a few things for certain.

One. She had dug her grave too deep to escape from. Two. No matter what, she wouldn't take the rope Adora threw down for her. She didn't want to waste the time and effort it took to dig this grave. Three. Something she knew but was trying to hide, was something simple.

She really, really missed Adora.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I am [ClearSkyWritings](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/clearskywritings/) on Tumblr


End file.
